Saturday, July 21, 2007

You're off to a place across the blue waters.Far from a world that's insane in every way.You're all set to head south to the land that yearns for peace.In search of your friend in a war torn land.You've packed your bags and all set to leave.Just let go the earth beneath your feet;Fly away into serenityAnd carry along the message of peace.

It's a deceptively beautiful world out there damsel.For what you see is isn't what what it really is.Where even grass on the other side doesn't seem green.And where shells bloom more than blossoms in streets.So watch carefully every step you take.Remember whenever you want to turn aroundAnd return to where you began.There's a soul waiting for his angel with wide open arms.Be it during scorching heat or pouring rain.

Bow your heads down and look beneath. Oh! You ever glowing stars from above. Lying on her back she sleeps so calmly. Like a placid lake amidst lush greenery. With those tender fingers keying a msg for her Scribbler. She innocently chuckles and rolls over like a cute toddler. As though she's whispering her best kept secret into my ears. Her eyes are gleaming brighter than any of you stars up there. Take refuge behind those clouds if you don't want to scamper; Watch the darkness go on its knees before her And slowly surrender.

Living a life behind the iron mask. She pretends to be a stranger to emotions and tears. Deep down she's still a damsel with a baby's face, Who's away from this world's mortals, For their own goodness sake. As breaking their hearts unintentionally is what she fears;

Residing on a high tower over the rock fort. She has imprisoned herself Behind the bars of bitter memories and despair. Spending time making conversations. With her quill she talks to the paper all day Who listens to her without any complaints;

Sometimes her quill paints a vibgyor. And at times it bleeds incessantly with pain. With ink she glues them to paper, Weaving thoughts together with words and phrases. Emptying all her thoughts onto plain paper. She wipes the slate clean with her tears.

After dusk, she sits beside the lone window. Looking down at the hamlet where the Scribbler resides. Amidst smoking chimneys and dimly lit lights. She tries to catch a glimpse if he ever passes by. Though the distance between is poles apart. They remain together in prayers and thoughts.

Someday, she'll drop her mask. And see the light of day. Set herself free from those shackles and bars. Descend from the tower to meet this wandering soul. For this is the Scribbler's wish, Which will make his life whole.

Monday, July 02, 2007

Step out from that corner where you've cornered yourself,Break free from the shell, where you've imprisoned your soul,Unleash that spirit that’s yearning for freedomAnd look outside your kingdom where you've been chained down.

Look beyond those books,Through which you thought you saw the world.For there's more to it than just pictures and innumerable words,Some that is to be experienced and some inexplicable.

Shatter that image of a silver fishIn which you've disguised yourself.Let your legs do the walking for a changeAnd relieve you fingers from flipping across the pages.

Break your virtual windowAnd throw open that door.Stop clicking and taking virtual tours,Just knock hard and everything will open up for you to know.

For the real world awaits you with a myriad of colours,Dormant like a volcano that lies in wait for your nod.Step up and see what all you've missed until now,Because you've been lost all this while in a world of your own.

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Amit Charles B. aka Scribbler is an authentic Bangalorean (since 1982), who found and got hitched to his Muse recently. He now owns a scribble pad, a camera, a casual wardrobe and a detuned guitar with corroding strings.
And those of you who are interested in my work rather than my Apollo 13-attempt-at-a-funny- bio, flip the pages of my Scribble Pad.